


Plan B

by kirinokisu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirinokisu/pseuds/kirinokisu
Summary: In hopes of impressing Akaashi, Bokuto attempts cooking. The results are questionable. But enjoyable.





	Plan B

“Is there a reason you’re standing in the middle of our kitchen with a hammer in your hand and do I want to know it?”

Slowly, Bokuto lowered the weapon in his hand. It’s not like it was doing much to intimidate the thing on the kitchen counter anyway.

“I’m cooking dinner.”

“I see,” Kuroo said, and Bokuto hoped he meant the key to Bokuto’s happy future. Because that’s certainly all Bokuto himself was seeing at that moment. “And do you remember the last time we tried that?”

How he wished he could forget! The pan had caught on fire and singed half of his left eyebrow off. They still didn’t know how exactly that happened. It was easier to pretend it hadn’t. “Mhm,” he grinned, “you mistook a baby carrot for your amputated finger and told me to call an ambulance.”

Kuroo sniffed. “At least my scream was manlier than yours.”

“It was not! Besides, it’s been a long time since then. I’ve improved.”

“If by long you mean less than a month the entirety of which we lived off instant ramen.” And occasional takeout, when they had the funds. No one had told them university would be so hard, just offered an athletic scholarship. Time management was _not_ easy. Or Bokuto’s forte.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, finally tearing his gaze off the thing. Because it wouldn’t do to get nervous now and risk ruining everything. Grin broadening, he clasped Kuroo’s shoulder in his hand, squeezing it affectionately. Kuroo winced a little. “Don’t you worry, my friend! The kitchen will still be here when you come back from Miyagi. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be on your way?”

Kuroo waggled the black travel bag he was carrying. “Leaving now.”

“Say hi to Tsukki!” Bokuto waved with the hammer in his hand, in a sort of farewell. “And remember to come back!”

The look on Kuroo’s face was something he could understand; it was why he was going to do what he was going to do, too. And his relationship wasn’t even long-distance.

Sometimes, spending only a few nights a month together just wasn’t enough anymore. Not when there was another option.

“Good luck,” Kuroo said, sincerely but with a typically annoying catlike smile.

The front door closed softly behind him, leaving Bokuto alone with a slab of stupidly expensive beef and two hours to cook it exactly right.

 

-

 

It wasn’t like he was going in blind, Bokuto told himself. He’d researched multiple recipes on the internet. He’d watched countless cooking videos. He even went shopping with an actual list of ingredients.

Besides, how hard could cooking a steak be? It was just a piece of fried meat. That tasted like heaven.

_Simple_ , he thought, whacking the meat with a hammer. To tenderize it or whatever. _And I’m absolutely going to nail it._

He followed the instructions carefully: the garlic went in first, then was taken out a minute later, brownish and fragrant. It was set aside for future garnishing, because of course the meal had to look pretty. Only the best was acceptable today. The salt and the pepper were measured carefully with correct spoons before they were sprinkled on top of two pieces of meat. And into the sizzling hot pan they went.

So far, so good.

As instructed, he’d mixed the sauce beforehand—a simple combination of water, sake and soy sauce—and the vegetables cooking in the other pan looked about done. Feeling pretty great and almost drooling, Bokuto squeezed and released the tongs in his hand, ready and excited to flip, eyes watching the timer on his phone like a hawk. Ten seconds left. Five.

_A culinary expert! Naturally gifted! Clearly, last time was a fluke._

The timer went off with a cheery tune, and Bokuto dived for the pan like he would for a toss from Akaashi. Maybe a bit too aggressively, as multiple droplets of oil went flying every which way.

He didn’t pay them any attention.

Because his perfect, beautiful steaks had somehow obtained a black charred underside.

_What._

He checked the timer again. It still read two minutes, just as it said in the recipe.

And the steaks were still badly burned.

“I don’t understand.”

He stared; simply stood there and stared. Blinking owlishly.

Nothing made sense. He’d followed the recipe perfectly, he’d watched other people do it so easily, and sure, maybe he didn’t know what “medium high heat” meant exactly, but surely that couldn’t be it? Hot was hot, and hotter was better. He couldn’t serve potentially raw meat. Not to Akaashi.

Except now he had no meat to serve at all.

_Great job. As always._

The timer went off again, just as cheerily. Two minutes. Bokuto did not want to know how the other side looked. Screw the sauce at this point, too. Even if he somehow managed not to screw that one up too, it wouldn’t cover up the taste of… _this_.

Mechanically, he grabbed the handle of the pan with a bright red kitchen towel. It burned like hell, and he’d dropped the pan hastily, nearly missing the trivet.

Great, just great.

Flinging the towel angrily somewhere in the direction of the kitchen counter, Bokuto stomped to the sink and put his palm under cold running water. It didn’t even hurt that bad, but he felt like crying anyway.

All his plans, down the drain. Now Akaashi was never going to—

“Bokuto-san?”

The speed with which Bokuto turned around at the sound of that beautiful voice had him almost losing the balance and he had to steady himself again the sink, wet fingers slippery on the stainless steel.

“’Kaashi,” he said helplessly.

It was almost like a dream. Standing in the doorway, Akaashi did not look real. It must’ve been drizzling outside, because the tips of his hair were curling more than usual. The light grey of the wool peacoat turned his eyes a bluer, darker shade of teal, far too pretty. The high collar was unbuttoned, revealing a snug navy pullover that had Bokuto’s eyes fixing on the firm panes of his chest and the long, pale neck.

But it was the apartment key Akaashi was twirling in his left hand that made it hard to breath.

Then he remembered the mess he had made, and the dream took a sharp turn to nightmare.

“Uh.”

How pathetic was it that he could do nothing but watch in dread as Akaashi crossed the distance between them in a few sure steps, then grabbed Bokuto’s hand, palm up, because Akaashi never missed anything. At least, not when it came to Bokuto. “Are you hurt?”

Shoulders slumping, Bokuto shook his head. This was the worst. _He_ was the worst.

One job, and he’d messed it up. And now Akaashi had to see him like this.

“I’ll go grab the first-aid kit,” Akaashi said, gently letting go of Bokuto’s hand. But then he stopped, suddenly alert. Sniffed discreetly. And turned to look at what was supposed to be their romantic dinner.

At his gasp, Bokuto turned to look too.

There, on the stove, the kitchen towel had landed right on the burner. That Bokuto of course had forgotten to turn off.

The sound of the fire alarm was deafening.

 

-

 

Bokuto was silent in the wake of the catastrophe.

They’d shut off the fire alarm before it could alert the neighbours. The windows were opened wide to let the smoke out and fresh air in. What was left of the kitchen towel was put to soak in the sink.

And Akaashi was calmly assessing the damage.

The steaks were still in the pan, burned on the outside and most likely raw on the inside. The sauce hadn’t been cooked at all. The vegetables had been forgotten amidst everything else and now resembled weirdly shaped chunks of coal.

Bokuto thought about ordering takeout but had no will to get up from the kitchen chair he’d slumped onto to search of his phone.

All he’d wanted was to do something nice for Akaashi. To show him a fraction of how much he loved him. To impress him.

Then he was going to bring up the fact that the lease on his and Kuroo’s apartment was expiring, and that Tsukishima was coming to Tokyo come new school year, and that maybe Akaashi was ready to consider moving in together. They could find something big, for all four of them, or it could be just him and Akaashi. It could be sweet, sleepy mornings in bed, trickling slowly into afternoons on weekends. Hot summer days on the volleyball court two blocks away. And evenings cuddled on the sofa in front of the TV, watching movies or playing video games or doing nothing at all. Because Bokuto didn’t need anything else when he had Akaashi tucked safely in his arms, fitting so perfectly against every curve and angle of Bokuto’s body.

He just had to fuck it all up, didn’t he.

There was no way Akaashi would say yes now, not after this.

He deserved the best of the best, and this was farthest from it. _Bokuto_ was.

“Bokuto-san, you said we have the apartment to ourselves only for tonight and for tomorrow.” Numbly, Bokuto looked up. Akaashi was standing right in front of him, face unreadable. He’d taken off his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his pullover somewhere along the way, and Bokuto had missed the show. Mesmerised, he nodded. “Why, then, are you wasting our time sitting by yourself?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Do you want me to?”

Bokuto shook his head vigorously; he never wanted Akaashi to leave, which was exactly the point.

Akaashi came closer still. His hands reached for Bokuto’s hair, fingers burying into the spikes stiff from hair wax, messing them up. Then, he pulled, gently at first, until Bokuto was tilting his head up, looking straight into Akaashi’s eyes. _Yearning_. “Then why would I?”

Bokuto’s throat went dry. His arms already curling around Akaashi’s waist on their own accord, pulling him closer. Akaashi went down willingly, straddling Bokuto’s thighs. “Because I messed up. Like I always do.”

Akaashi’s grip on Bokuto’s hair tightened, drawing a hitched breath in response. “No, you tried your best. Like you always do.”

Bokuto had nothing to say to that. And it had everything to do with Akaashi’s face hovering above his, dark and sultry, promising. So impossibly beautiful.

His whole body tingled with renewed energy, suddenly awake.

And he laughed, free and boisterous. He was so, so impossibly in love with the man sitting on his lap.

So what if he’d fucked up their dinner. Akaashi was still there, wasn’t he? And he still deserved the absolute best.

Grasping Akaashi by the thighs, Bokuto lifted them both off the chair with practices ease and felt long, slim legs wrap tight around his waist. It made depositing Akaashi on the table nearly impossible, but he had priorities and besides, running both hands over those legs felt just as great. Excellent. Fucking fantastic.

He could dedicate this entire night to marking them with bites and kisses. No one would ever see, but Bokuto would know. And so would Akaashi.

Getting rid of Akaashi’s jeans and underwear was tricky, but Bokuto was nothing if not dedicated. At Akaashi’s insistent tugging, he took off his own shirt too. And maybe Bokuto simply didn’t know how to learn from his mistakes, because he didn’t check where it landed behind his back and didn’t really care. How could he, when Akaashi was running his hands across naked skin and doing that thing with his tongue, mouthing along the line of Bokuto’s collarbones, causing his knees to go weak.

But tonight was not about Bokuto, who had plenty of wrongs to right.

With great effort that took everything, he’d pushed Akaashi away from himself, then further down, until he was leaning on his elbows against the table. His cheeks were flushed. His curls messy and wild. The pullover was bunched around his chest, revealing stiff pink nipples that Bokuto immediately latched onto.

Fuck, he should’ve gone searching for his phone after all.

Not that he could ever forget the picture in front of him. But still.

As always, Akaashi panted heavily but stayed otherwise silent under the wet and filthy open-mouthed kisses that Bokuto rained down his chest, and as always, it filled Bokuto with purpose, challenged him to do his best until Akaashi would be moaning under him, pretty and wild. Or on top of him. Or behind. Any way, really.

At the hollow of Akaashi’s hipbone, where an old hickey was still fading, Bokuto pulled back.

He licked his lips, hungry. Then leaned down to finally, finally kiss Akaashi on the mouth. The satisfied moan that surged deep in Bokuto’s throat was swallowed in the messy clash of lips and tongue and teeth.

Akaashi’s nails raked down his biceps and forearms, leaving stinging red lines in their wake, and Bokuto’s hips buckled involuntarily, his dick hard and eager as it rubbed against Akaashi.

Akaashi smiled into his mouth, pleased.

Bokuto kissed him again, and again, and again.

He’d never had Akaashi’s patience, who could spend hours torturing Bokuto with his hands and his mouth. But that was okay, because Bokuto had his own set of skills. After all, he’d invested a lot of his energy into learning just what make Akaashi Keiji happy.

And if his smile was extra wide as he lowered down to his knees, well.

He didn’t miss the way Akaashi’s eyes narrowed dangerously in expectation. There would be payback later, of that he was certain. The thought shouldn’t have sent such a shiver down his spine.

Hooking Akaashi legs over his shoulders, Bokuto put his mouth to the tip of Akaashi’s cock, lapping at the bead of pre-come with his tongue. Then he took it into his mouth, swallowing around until it hit the back of his throat.

The keen that left Akaashi’s reluctant, tightly pressed together lips was everything.

Diligently, Bokuto started sucking, fingers biting into the flesh of Akaashi’s ass, just as Akaashi’s own curled around the edge of the table. They were white at the knuckles.

Bokuto preened, because he did this. He had made Akaashi feel good enough to throw his head back in ecstasy, mouth open slightly, chest raising and falling erratically, to the rhythm of Bokuto’s mouth.

Almost there.

Needing air, Bokuto pulled back and pressed sloppy happy kisses up and down the length of Akaashi’s weeping cock. Another string of pre-come had him sucking on the tip, and relishing in the way Akaashi’s feet dug sharply into his back. He shifted a little, his jeans too tight and uncomfortable, but didn’t move his hands to deal with it. Not yet.

Teasingly, Bokuto licked his way down Akaashi’s cock, mouthed lazily, languidly at the heavy balls. And pressed his tongue flat against the twitching hole.

Akaashi came with a soft barely audible whimper, and it was the most beautiful sight Bokuto had ever seen. Moaning lowly under his breath and eyes glued to Akaashi’s trembling, slumped form, Bokuto unzipped his pants with shaking clumsy hands, took out his painfully hard dick, and spilled all over his clothes after a few desperate hasty strokes.

Somehow, he managed to get up, too happy and simply _full_ to sit still.

“’Kaashi?”

Instead of replying, Akaashi wordlessly tilted his head to the side, to have better view. The blissed look on his face warmed Bokuto’s heart so much he thought it would burst.

He looked so beautiful and so impossibly right there in Bokuto’s home, and Bokuto had to bite down the words on the tip of his tongue. Now wasn’t the right time. “I love you,” he said instead. “So stupidly much.”

Tomorrow, he’d try his hand at making breakfast. Then, he’d ask.

**Author's Note:**

> (Spoiler: Kuroo does come back to a kitchen that is still standing. Only because Akaashi wakes up early and takes care of breakfast in bed.  
> And he does move in, a couple of months later when Kuroo moves out with Tsukishima. They all live happy ever after. The end.)
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated and keep me alive. And if you want to scream at and/or with me, I’m usually wasting my life on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirinokisu).
> 
> HAPPY BOKUAKA DAY, EVERYONE


End file.
